5th Sunday of Easter - Year A (John141-14)

We do Thomas (and ourselves) a grave injustice by reducing the questioning apostle to a mere caricature.  Most prominently in the account of the post-resurrection appearance to the apostles, but also in this Sunday’s text from John, Thomas speaks for all Christians who sometimes doubt and question.  In some sense, we might even call Thomas the first theologian.  According to St. Anselm, theology is faith seeking understanding.  That is exactly what Thomas is doing.  Thomas asks the questions others are either afraid to ask or do not even know they have.  Faith is not certainty.  Faith is not perfect knowledge.  As St. Paul says in I Cor., “For now we see in a mirror, dimly,but then we will see face to face.   Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”  An again in Hebrews we read “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."   Thomas reminds us that we need not leave our doubts and questions at the church door and history shows us that the church is often most unfaithful when most certain.

4th Sunday of Easter - Year A (John 10: 1-10)

“I am the gate.”
Although I know that in the Mideast the shepherd often sleeps at the opening of the sheep pen and is literally a human gate, the gate images that fill my mind as I prayerfully consider this Gospel text are made of wood. Perhaps this is the result of a recent do-it-yourself project where a gate/door was added to the potting shed we are building in the back yard. It seems an obvious jump then, from the gate to the cross. We are incorporated into the fold by way of the cross. We are saved from our twin enemies, sin and death, by the cross. We are given access to the fullness of life through the cross.
Gates serve two functions that can seem at cross (no pun intended) purposes. A closed gate marks a boundary between “in and out” which cannot be passed. An open gate creates a space in which the boundary between “in and out” is breached. The cross stands as just such a paradox as it condemns our sin and announces our salvation.

3rd Sunday of Easter - Year A (Luke 24:13-35)

They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32) As a person who suffers from frequent heart burn, I am forced to take a second look at this passage from Luke. While we have always interpreted this in a positive light, perhaps we do the Word a disservice by eliminating any notion of preaching as irritation.
Perhaps the best analogy is that of the grain of sand in the oyster – a tiny irritant that, in due time, produces a pearl. It might help to imagine yourself on a plane traveling home from a funeral and being forced to sit next to someone who insists on having a conversation. While no doubt awed by the way in which the stranger explained the scriptures to them, the two pilgrim disciples on the way to Emmaus must have been at least a bit irritated. Not only did they have their solitude impinged upon by this talkative fellow traveler but their understanding of both the scriptures and the events that had just taken place was refuted. It was only in the context of the breaking of the bread that everything became clear.
The effective preaching of the good news requires a kind of pushiness that is respectful but insistent. Effective preaching requires that the hearer’s preconceptions sometimes be dismantled. Finally, effective preaching is tied to the Eucharist. It is the presence of the risen Christ in both word and sacrament that enables us to hear and receive Gospel.

2nd Sunday of Easter – Year A (John 20, 19-31)

William Holman Hunt’s famous painting, “The Light of the World”, depicts Jesus knocking at a door, somewhat overgrown from lack of use and without an outside knob. The painting is based on Rev. 3:19-21 in which Jesus awaits an invitation to come inside. In the Gospel of John, Jesus is not nearly so polite. He has no problem, even though the doors are locked, letting himself in.
The risen Christ comes to us in our fear with his Easter gift of peace without our having to do anything to allow it to happen. Even when we fail to recognize our need for that peace, even when we think we are unworthy to receive that peace, Jesus comes to us saying Peace be with you. Had the logic of the Hunt painting ruled the day after the passion and death of Jesus, fear would have been victorious. Thank God it did not. Instead, the grace and peace of the risen Christ confronts our fear head-on.   The disciples were not allowed to play out the drama of their angst (here I am reminded of the Beach Boys song "In My Room".  God always comes down.  Alleluia.

Fifth Sunday of Lent - Year A (John 11:1-45)

In the context of the early church’s use of John 11:1-45 (the raising of Lazarus) as part of the immediate preparation of “the elect” for baptism, this particular passage shifts in focus from a miracle story to a teaching about the meaning of baptism. As such, it imparts some important lessons.
1. Baptism is the result of the initiative of Jesus and not the individual coming to the sacrament. In Jesus, God calls Lazarus from death to life.

2. Baptism must always be seen in the context of a larger community of faith, and not simply as a matter between an individual and Jesus. In the gospel passage, Martha and Mary are very much a part of the story.

3. The new life of grace begun in Baptism, while not the fullness of life to be experienced in the resurrection of the body, is a foretaste of that fullness. Baptism brings about a real change in the person being baptized.

4. The death and resurrection experienced by the baptized makes the physical death that must inevitably come to each of us less fearful.

5. The celebration of baptism is a witness to the world of God’s power at work in Jesus Christ.

4th Sunday of Lent - Year A (John 9, 1-41)

Last week we looked deep into Jacob’s well with the woman of Samaria.  This week we look into the flame of the paschal candle.  (It is no accident that they stand next to each other in many churches, just as last week’s Gospel stands next to this one on these consecutive Sundays in Lent.)  In this flame is that same light first created when God said “Let there be light”.  Here are the sun, moon, and stars.  Here are fireflies and florescent creatures of the deep.  Here is the pillar of flame that led the people of Israel through the dessert.  Here is the sacrificial fire of the Temple.  Here is the burning coal that touched Isaiah’s lips.  Here is the fiery furnace and the fiery chariot.  Here is the miraculous light of Hanukkah and here is the star that guided the magi.  Here is the light of revelation to the gentiles.  Here is the light that came into the world to scatter the darkness and to make the blind to see. 

3rd Sunday of Lent - Year A (John 4. 5-12)

Imagine, if you will, that you have the ability to look deep down into the well frequented by the Samaritan woman.  What might you see?

First you would see the primordial waters of creation, that chaos over which the Spirit brooded and over which God spoke the Word of creation.  There too the Red Sea through which God's chosen move to new life and by which the forces of slavery and death are overthrown.  Forty days and forty nights worth of unrelenting rain are contained here.  Leviathan swims and the ark floats.  There are rivers here too, of course.  Not only the Jordan, but the river Ezekial saw flowing out of the temple, the river of the psalmist beside which the righteous flourish, and the river flowing from Jesus pierced side. 

This wonderous well in which we find and from which we drink the waters that quench all thirsts is found in every baptismal font.